


Put a Light On

by Costellos



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Age Difference, F/M, Humanstuck, Implied/Referenced Cheating, POV Second Person, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-13
Updated: 2016-05-13
Packaged: 2018-06-08 02:02:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6834520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Costellos/pseuds/Costellos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s half-past midnight during the middle of a storm when you find the younger Peixes on your back porch, wrapped up in an oversized hoodie and soaked from head to toe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Put a Light On

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally meant to be a gift for a friend, but it's been literal years ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

It's half-past midnight during the middle of a storm when you find the younger Peixes on your back porch, wrapped up in an oversized hoodie and soaked from head to toe. Your first instinct is to ask, "What are you doing out so late on a school night? Shouldn't you be at home?" But when you hear the way her voice wavers when she asks if she can come in, you forget all about it and usher her into the house without a second thought.

She's a shivering mess, standing in the middle of the kitchen with her arms wrapped around herself tightly. She's dripping water all over the floor but you don't care, and you make sure to tell her so when she tries to apologize. You're far more concerned about getting her into some dry clothes before she catches a cold.

"Would you like some tea?"

She sniffles and nods. "Yes, please."

You put the kettle on and tell her to follow you.

Your dresser drawers are pretty bare since you haven't had a chance to do laundry for the week, but you've got a few dress shirts hanging up in the closet that should work just fine. Feferi's brows knit together in question when you hand her a dark violet button-up.

"You're going to get sick if you don't get out of those wet clothes, love."

"But I don't have any—"

"You can change in here." You refuse to take no for an answer and push the shirt into her hands. You yank the towel hanging from the door of the master bathroom and give that to her as well. "Come back down to the kitchen once you're dressed, alright? I want you to tell me what happened over tea."

She nods and looks away shyly. You take that as your cue to give her some privacy.

Though neither you nor your boys drink it, making tea comes almost naturally after all the practice you've had; this isn't the first time she's shown up on your doorstep at odd hours of the night, and you're certain it won't be the last. It's why you keep a small stash of ginger peach tea in the cupboards behind the coffee grounds, always prepared.

You can't put your finger on it, but there's something nice about hearing the floorboards creak above you as Feferi pads hesitantly around your room. You wonder what she's doing; if she's snooping through your things, maybe smelling the colognes on your dresser that she often compliments you on. She's certainly taking her sweet time.

_Hasn't she finished changing yet?_

It's an innocent enough thought that turns licentious far too fast, provoking images of Feferi sitting on your bed in nothing but a towel, and they're so lewd that you find yourself humming low in appreciation. You imagine her hunched in on herself, attempting to hide a shy smile against her shoulder as she pulls the towel tighter around her chest, her cheeks flushed bright red in embarrassment; not because you'd accidentally walked in on her at her most vulnerable moment, but more so because she'd _wanted_ you to find her like this. She'd been planning this all along and now she's nervous.

You put the kettle down before you lose your grip.

What would happen next? You close your eyes and imagine yourself crawling over her body, licking at her collarbones and tugging at that godforsaken linen that kept her beauty a secret from you until she lets go and it falls open at her sides. The little noises she'd make as she squirms beneath you, completely exposed, squeezing her legs together so you wouldn't see her most intimate parts…

You screw your eyes shut and shake your head when you realize just what you're thinking. What's wrong with you? You can't afford to be having such debauched thoughts of the girl whom you'd watched your sons chase after all these years—especially not _now,_ while she's under the same roof! Maybe later you'll have some time to daydream, but for now you've got to keep a clear head.

"Mr. Ampora?"

Feferi's standing in the doorway, wearing nothing but your too-big dress shirt with her wavy black hair, damp and tousled, falling around her shoulders. She wrings her hands and pulls at her fingers nervously.

"What have I told you about calling me that," you ask after clearing your throat and managing to tear your eyes from her bare legs. You regret not having dug through one of the boys' dressers for a pair of shorts she could wear. "Please, address me by my first name."

She shrugs and looks down at the floor.

You sigh. "Come, sit and tell me what's on your mind."

Feferi's not quick to talk, choosing to sip at her tea in silence for a good minute or two instead. You lean your folded arms on the table and wait patiently to hear the reason she'd decided that running to your house in the middle of a thunderstorm alone at night would be a good idea. It's not until she's almost halfway through with her drink that she starts to open up.

She tells you everything; about her mother poking fun at her weight, about the horrible things she'd said to her, about how she wanted to send Feferi to fat camp over summer break. Feferi's lip quivers as she tells you all of this, and you have to try your hardest not to grab the nearest phone and give Mrs. Peixes a piece of your mind. You always knew Condie could be a cold hearted bitch, but it still surprises you that she'd be so relentless with her own daughter. It pains you to see her so hurt because as far as you're concerned, she's gorgeous. Feferi is absolutely perfect the way she is and you wouldn't dare change a single thing about the girl.

And you tell her so. Not because she could use a pick-me-up, but because it's true and you want her to know that. She brushes your words aside when you tell her just how precious she actually is, and blushes when you compliment her on her big, beautiful hazel eyes. You're not sure if she believes you but it gets her to smile, so it's a start.

It's adorable, the way the sleeves of your shirt fold over her small hands as she cradles the teacup to her lips every so often with closed eyes and subtle smile that shows her contentment. You don't really care for the taste yourself, but you sip at it anyway because it's the polite thing to do.

"I mean, I get that image is a big thing for her and it's important that she always looks good, but I don't really think my weight ever had any influence on her campaigns before!" she exclaims with furrowed brows. "If anything she should be more worried about Meenah, running around and causing problems all the time."

You agree. "She could certainly use a good deal of discipline, that one. Got quite the mouth on her. Nothing but trouble." Just like her mother. You recall how she'd broken your garage window two weeks ago for whatever apparent reason and didn't even so much as apologize. Instead she had flipped you off and hurled a few choice insults your way when you tried to confront her before she ran off with her friends.

Feferi rubs her sleeve-covered wrist against her temple and scrunches her nose. _Your mother used to do that,_ you think endearingly, and it dawns on you for the first time just how much she reminds you of Condie back when you were kids. The look she has right now is the exact same look Condie would get whenever she was frustrated, but at the same time it's not; it's uniquely Feferi in the oddest way, and your heart starts thumping rapidly when she gives a little yawn.

"Thank you for the tea, sir. I feel a lot better," she says gratefully with a little half-smile. "And I'm really sorry for coming over so late and bothering you, but I can go home if you want. I don't live that far away and it's not raining as hard as before so I really don't mind!" And just as easily, you're reminded how different she is from Condie, and that it doesn't matter how many little quirks she might've inherited from her mother; she'll never be anything like that she-devil.

"Nonsense. You're not leaving this house tonight. And don't speak like that. You're never a bother to me." You'd only been nodding off to late-night television talk shows in the living room when there was a knock at the back door, so it's not like you have more important things to do.

Feferi nods. "Thank you," she says again, then starts to say something else before being cut off by a cute little sneeze. You can't help but chuckle at how adorable she is, but how much you just want to scoop her up into your arms and protect her from the world is quickly replaced with much more depraved thoughts when she drops her hands from her mouth and you notice that the first few buttons of your shirt are undone, showing off more of her cleavage than anyone should ever be allowed to witness without first making an honest woman out of her.

"Let me get you some more tea to warm you up," you insist and take her cup before quickly excusing yourself from the table to stand alone at the kitchen counter. A warm, familiar feeling spreads throughout your gut, and although it feels nice, it's not welcome. You shouldn't be entertaining these immoral, decadent ideas! She's like the daughter you never had! She's still in high school, for Christ's sake!

 _Oh,_ but the way she licks her lips after every sip of tea, and how her breasts seem to have filled out quite considerably since the last time you really got a good look at them last summer during Eridan's yacht party, and how her hips—

"Is everything alright, Mr. Ampora? Your hands are shaking."

"Hmm? Oh. Oh, yes, I'm quite alright." You put the kettle down before you manage to make more of a mess than the one you've already made while you were momentarily lost in thought. You put the tea-filled cup plate in the sink and wipe down the counter before getting a new one. "Sorry; it seems I must've spaced out there for a moment. I hope I didn't miss anything you might've been saying."

"Is there something on your mind that's bothering you, sir?"

"Ah, nothing that you need to be worrying that pretty little—" You're a bit startled when you turn around and nearly walk right into her. How long had she been standing there behind you for? "Oh! I'm so sorry. I didn't know—I hadn't realized—I wasn't aware that you were standing so…"

"Mr. Ampora?"

"Hmm?" You snap your attention up from her cleavage to meet her gaze. For a second you're worried that you might've been caught relishing in the fact that she definitely wasn't wearing a bra, but before you can process what's going on, Feferi practically throws herself at you.

"I just want to say thank you," she says for the umpteenth time that evening, though it sounds a lot more heartfelt and solemn this time around. Her voice is a bit muffled from having her face buried in your shirt, but you can understand her just fine. "For everything."

"Feferi."

"It's just—you've always been like a father to me," she says, her voice wavering the same way it'd been when you first found her earlier on your back porch. You gingerly enfold her in your arms, thumbing her shoulder and resting your chin on her head. "You've always been there whenever I needed you most, Mr. Ampora; especially when my mother hasn't. I really do appreciate everything. So thank you."

"Shhh. That's enough, love." You hush her and pull away to tip her chin up, forcing her to finally look at you. Her glossy eyes are lined with tears and you wipe the few stray ones away from her cheeks. "Silly girl. There's no need to be crying." She tries to hide her face but you don't let her. You give her a stern look. "Hey now, didn't you hear what I just said? Where's that darling smile of yours? C'mon. Let's see it."

She lets out a tiny half-sob, half-laugh and sniffles. You grin. "There it is." You thumb away the last of her tears with the hand you've got cupping her face. When she nuzzles her cheek into your palm, you swallow and let your thumb wander to run along her bottom lip. You lick your own, darting your eyes between hers as you hope to God you're not misreading the atmosphere. "You're far too beautiful to be crying."

Much to your surprise, she doesn't attempt to shy away from your comfort turned come-on; nor does she try to push you away when you decide to take a chance and lean in to steal a kiss. While she doesn't exactly reciprocate immediately—standing there as still as a statue with eyes wide open—after a moment or two the shock must wear off because her eyes slide shut and she finally relaxes against you, wasting no time in catching up to your kisses.

You play it safe for a bit, not wanting to push the envelope too quickly; but once you're certain that there's nothing else to worry about after crossing the fine line from makeshift parental figure to sudden romantic interest, you indulge yourself some more and tease your tongue along her bottom lip. She obliges almost instantly, parting them and granting you entrance.

You waste no time in exploring her mouth eagerly, not unlike a hormone-ridden fifteen-year-old boy, the both of you fervently locking lips until you're nearly out of breath. The moan she lets out during a particularly frisky exchange gets a nigh-immediate reaction from below, and you have no choice but to pull away lest you lose control right there on the spot. However, when you get an eyeful of her swollen lips, flushed-cheeks, and the flustered, expectant look in her now dark, hooded eyes, the word "restraint" suddenly loses all meaning. You swiftly pick her up and set her on the counter, ignoring her surprised squeak before resuming your unprincipled, lust-fueled romp.

It's so much easier touching and kissing her when she's level with you like this, and as delicious as her lips feel and taste against your own, you can't help but take full advantage of the situation by abandoning them in lieu of trailing sweet, gentle kisses along her jawline while caressing her sides beneath your button-down. She hums appreciatively and tips her head to the side, allowing you to dip in to swipe a few licks at her neck, collarbones, then further down to the tops of her breasts where, unfortunately, there are still too many buttons leaving more than you'd prefer to the imagination.

As if Feferi can read your mind, she leans away just long enough to set to work on undoing the last four or five of them, letting your silk button-down fall open at her sides. You're starstruck, staring at her young, perky breasts in awe, which she offers up to you by pushing out her chest with a shy smile. You don't let her gift go to waste for a second more before you dive in, licking them and suckling at her pert nipples as if you were a starving man, eliciting the most beautiful sounds to fall from Feferi's lips as her hands find their way to the back of your head.

It's like a dream come true. Still, no matter how much you grab at her or how close you press yourself up against her, it never seems like it's enough; not even shedding yourself of your own shirt makes much of difference, although the feel of her chest pressed up against your own does make you shiver with delight.

You take a moment to unlatch your mouth from her breast to drop your hands to her hips and drag her closer, forcing her to spread her legs so that you can wedge yourself between them. The first thing you notice is the blatant heat; second, the feeling of nothing but bare skin under your palms. It seems that while you were carried away with the prospect of being welcome to invade Feferi's personal space, you'd completely failed to notice that she wasn't wearing any panties. You let out a low growl against her neck and rut up against her, making sure that she can feel how hard you are against the inside of her thigh. She moans and tries to close her legs, but you don't let her. Instead, you place your hands on her knees and spread them even wider, looking down between the two of you.

"Feferi. Look." You run your index finger along her folds, glistening and wet. You click your tongue when she tries—and fails—once more to close her legs, teasing her and making a mess by rubbing her wetness all around. Her back goes rigid when you just barely dip a finger into her, gathering some of her fluids to show her. "Look at how wet you are, love," you tell her, but she bites her lip and looks away. You let out a hearty chuckle and fall to your knees between her thighs. If it's something she wants to bite her lip and play coy over, then you'll gladly give it to her.

You kiss the insides of her thighs, trailing up to her hot center where you let yourself bask in the overpowering scent of her arousal. You know she can feel your warm breath against her sex—her quivering legs and baited breath are a dead giveaway of her anticipation—so you strike while the iron is hot and give a few experimental licks at her soaked slit before she tries to squirm her way out of your hold again. She gasps in surprise and thrusts her hips out towards you, her fingers finding immediate purchase in your short hair. You laugh. "Is that what you like, then?" you ask. A gentle kiss to her clit earns you another small gasp and a shudder, and you grin into her mound, drinking in the small victory before continuing your assault on her most sensitive area.

You lap at her sopping folds and suck at her pearl for as long as she allows, until Feferi's nothing more than a writhing mess above you and the thunder outside is drowned out by the harmonious sounds of her needy whines and moans echoing around the kitchen. It's not until she's right on the verge of climaxing that you somehow will yourself to pull away and meet her back up on the counter. As much as you were enjoying the sweet, sweet taste of her juices, you know that you'd enjoy the both of you coming together even more.

She's looking up at you, waiting. "Mr. Ampora—"

You hush her up with a swift, passionate kiss that's sure to leave her with a lingering taste of herself on her tongue. The thought of that makes you even harder.

"Shhh. I've got you," you whisper, fumbling to undo the button on your slacks. You push them and your boxers down just enough to let your hard cock slip out from its confines, and you breathe a sigh of relief. Seeing Feferi's eyes widen in amazement, you take one of her hands into your own. "Come here, doll," you croon, leading her down to wrap her fingers around your throbbing manhood. She gives a gentle, nervous squeeze, and you groan. "Yes, do you—do you feel that? Feferi?"

"Yes." She nods and swallows. "Um, Mr. Ampora…"

"This is what you've done to me, Feferi." You thrust into her lax grip, careful not to get too carried away. "Tell me; do you still think of me like a father? Hmm?"

"Mr. Ampora, I don't…" She falters as she rubs your length, something clearly weighing on her mind. You push your own wanton needs aside to cup her cheek, bringing her to look at you. "I'm sorry."

"What is it, love?"

"It's just—" She blushes. "It's been awhile since Cronus and I…"

"Oh." You frown. You'd completely forgotten that she was currently dating your eldest son. Father of the year, you are. "That's alright, Feferi. We don't have to continue."

"No! No, that's not what I meant." She grabs your shoulders and pulls you close when you try to move away. You end up pressed against her, feeling the tip of your cock slide against her swollen clit. "I don't want to stop."

You rub your hands up and down her thighs. Now is not a good time for common sense to start kicking in. "I'm old enough to be your father."

"I know."

"Yet this is what… you want."

"I feel safe with you," she says, then drives the point home by rubbing herself along your hard, twitching length for emphasis. That's all the reason you need to throw caution to the wind, and you don't have to be told twice as you line yourself up with her slippery, hot cavern.

"Don't worry. I'll be gentle."

You can't help but groan when you finally push into her. She's tighter than you anticipated, her hot walls reflexively massaging around your intruding cock, and it takes all of your willpower not to abandon your promise and just slam into her. She winces and bites her lip when you shift to push yourself just a bit deeper.

"Are you okay?"

She nods, then looks away sheepishly. "You're a lot bigger than Cronus."

That shouldn't serve to spur you on even more, but it does nonetheless. You hum and kiss along her jawline before stealing her lips and quieting her ragged pants. When she starts rocking her hips against your own, you take that as your cue to stop holding back.

The only sounds falling from her lips now are those of pleasure as you steadily buck into her. Her nails dragging along your shoulders and her soft pleas of "more" and "don't stop" inspire you to go faster, and you lick at her neck as a sort of apology in case you're a bit too rough. She doesn't complain though, just squeezes tighter around your cock, and you hiss.

"Might want to be careful. I'm getting close."

"Me too."

"And I'm not wearing a condom," you warn, hips stuttering to keep your release at bay. The two of you are playing a dangerous game, but that doesn't seem to deter her from trying to take as much of your cock as she can handle. You groan. "Where should I—"

"It's okay," she says. "Come inside."

You have half a mind to deny such a reckless request and pull out immediately, but it's too late; her breathless moans and the sound of wet, slapping skin is more than you can handle, and all you can do is growl and suckle under her ear in acknowledgement. She spreads her legs wider and buries her face in the crook of your neck when you snake a hand down between the two of you to rub at her clit, urging her to join you.

Before you know it, Feferi's clenching around you like a vice, breath hitched, coming undone at the seams. You follow her right over the edge as she milks you, spilling into her with a heavy, labored sigh. Neither of you move, enjoying the closeness and heat from one another for quite some time, until a particularly loud crack of lightening lights up the sky outside the kitchen window.

Feferi moans when you finally pull out. This time she doesn't try to close her legs when you look down and admire your work, some of your cum dribbling out onto the counter. You think she looks all the more beautiful filled with your seed.

The sound of the front door swinging open ruins the moment.

"Hey, Pops! You still up?"

You blanche. Of all the nights for Cronus to decide to come home before 2:00 AM for once.

"I'm in the kitchen!" you call out, rushing to put your shirt back on and pull up your pants. You help Feferi off the counter and push her towards the hall, directing her up the stairs just before Cronus rounds the corner and pokes his head into the kitchen, reeking of cigarette smoke. You grunt. "You're home early."

"Party got busted up by the cops; it was lame anyway." He shrugs, then lifts a brow when he sees your abandoned teacup on the table. "Is Feferi here?"

"She's taking a shower, I believe. Apparently she was having some problems with her mother so she came here not too long ago. Poor thing was soaked."

Cronus whips his phone out and you take the opportunity to lean back against the counter where you and Feferi had just fucked, covering the evidence that you didn't have a chance to clean before Cronus showed up. "Huh. She didn't mention anything about that to me," he says with a frown. "She okay?"

"She is now."

"Well, alright then. Guess I'll go up and check on her. Thanks for looking out for her, Pops," he says, then slugs you playfully on the shoulder before turning tail and making a beeline for his bedroom.

You let out a sigh of relief when you're left standing alone in the kitchen; that was _close_. You silently thank the heavens that your eldest son is about as bright as a burnt-out light bulb and hope that Feferi has enough time to freshen herself up before Cronus ultimately barges in on her.

As for you, you quickly clean up before heading back into the living room to relax in front of the television, flipping through late night infomercials while thinking about how soft Feferi's thighs had felt in your hands no less than fifteen minutes ago.

You smirk.

Cronus can never know.


End file.
